


star fire quest

by directorenno



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Historical Fantasy, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, Long Hair, M/M, Magic, Minor Violence, Quests
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 06:24:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10270244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/directorenno/pseuds/directorenno
Summary: A hooded woman and her guard, speaking tongues. A fire’s warmth and raging currents. A snake shedding its skin, bathed in sunlight. The cherry blossom in bloom and melted snow.----A story of Tetsurou, proud warrior of Nekoma clan, and the search for the Star Fire blossoms.





	

**Author's Note:**

> written for [em](http://kitsurou.tumblr.com) for the hq rare pair exchange. hi! :) some kuroshou for you!~ i hope you enjoy!  
>  
> 
> quick note: family names are generally not a thing in this au, so everyone addresses everyone by their given name.
> 
> big thank you to my beta, [phara](http://yagirlyacchan.tumblr.com), who kindly looked this over despite it being so last minute.

****

“You should take the job,” is the first thing Kenma says when Tetsurou tugs the door open. A sour smell wafts out of the room and a fire glows dim against the dark of the night, inviting shadows inside to gnaw on the corners and edges of the room. Kenma sits undisturbed at the side of a sleeping Taketora, crushing herbs to a sticky paste under his pestle.

“Why hello, Kuro,” Tetsurou slides the door closed with an air. “Good to see you made it back safe, Kuro. How was the trip, Kuro?”

Kenma looks back at him and Tetsurou offers his most charming smile. Kenma frowns, face contorting until he resembles a pickled plum.

“You’re being a nuisance, Kuro,” he says and returns to his herbal paste. Tetsurou snorts, fingers ruffling through Kenma’s hair. He dumps his deerskin bag against the wall and stretches his arms wide, sighing happily when his shoulder pops.

“You had a vision, then?” he asks, tone careful as he turns towards Kenma, “About the job?”

Kenma’s visions are many things – riddles and deceptive flashes, concepts of an idea, and sketches of an incomplete image, but rarely are they ever clear or reliable. Tetsurou drops down at Tora’s feet, wood creaking like thin ice underneath his weight.

“I saw the hooded woman and her guard, speaking tongues.”

Tetsurou frowns; riddles and deceptive flashes. “You’re wrong, Kenma.”

His eyes flicker up and down Tora’s frame, noting the steady rise and fall of his chest, and he smiles. It’s not easy replacing good men. It’s not easy losing family. Tora’s shoulder looks like a worn-out chew toy, the flesh carefully needling itself back together like precise threadwork. Kenma’s potions and pastes at work, no doubt. Tetsurou lifts his gaze to Kenma’s.

“There was no hooded woman. A man came to me with the job offer, spoke some sort of dialect from further up north,” he says, kneading his fingers into Tora’s calves. Then, as an afterthought. “He was nervous, kept flitting his eyes left and right, bit of a weirdo.”

Kenma’s nose scrunches further up as his lips press together, face curdling beyond its pickled plum aesthetic.

“I _saw_ what I _saw_ ,” Kenma bites. “A hooded woman and her guard, speaking tongues. A fire’s warmth and raging currents. A snake shedding its skin, bathed in sunlight. The cherry blossom in bloom and melted snow. None of it matters – you should take the job.”

“The clan needs the money,” Tetsurou allows and shuffles closer to the wall. The weathered floorboard squeals, intent on proving a point. Kenma’s lips quirk at that.

“Lev will have a horse ready by morning.”

 

 

The sky falls to earth in a slow drizzle. Fat raindrops latch onto Tetsurou’s cheeks and glide down his chin. Horse climbs up the hill at a pace of her own, hooves clacking pleasantly against stone, unfazed by the way Tetsurou’s bedhead drips further down his forehead with every second. So many horses stabled and yet Lev saddles the one insubordinate brat.

Tetsurou takes a deep breath of the morning cold, feels it chill his lungs, and drops his head to her crest. The wind blows through her wild mane, rough hair tickling his nose. She smells of dust and hay and the warmth of the stables.

“Just a _little bit_ of haste would be nice,” he croaks and Horse ignores him.

The first of winter’s frost clings to the grass, the weather finally cooling. Kenma was wrong – cherry blossoms won’t bloom in this weather, not for a long time. Horse sighs a sigh of lifelong suffering, and Tetsurou reaches out a hand. Her coat is brushed to a shine, all glimmering black, yet it feels coarse against the inside of his palm.

“Almost there,” Tetsurou says when he catches sight of their destination. An open clearing, graced by dark splotches resembling figures waiting in the distance. Tetsurou presses his legs together and successfully brings Horse to a trot at last, Kenma’s potions jingling from the knapsack he carries on his back.

One of the splotches rides out to meet him, arm waving excitedly in the air.

“Tetsurou!” the figure yells – a voice he recognizes, so he urges Horse to ride even faster.

“Yukie,” he says when they meet, grinning. Yukie grins back and reins her horse to trot alongside his. Her armor glints in the first of the morning light, lines of gold swirling an intricate path along black shoulder pads, and a long braid wisps against her back.

“So you’re the one Nekoma clan sent to come collect flowers with us, huh,” she says as she gives his shoulder a heartfelt punch. “All by yourself?”

Tetsurou nods and rubs his upper arm. She always was particularly strong for her size.

“There wasn’t much choice,” he says. “And the fresh blood isn’t quite ready to go on missions yet. Especially not when the mission pays good money.”

Yukie hums and claps her palm against his back.

“Well you needn’t worry about getting lonely,” she says, “there’s plenty of familiar faces coming along.”

They’re close enough now for Tetsurou to recognize Akinori’s dirty-blond head. Two more figures stand to the side, clad in dark green armor - and oh gods, no, clad in _Nohebi_ armor. The stockier one of the two tends to his horse as the more slender one gestures something, sliding a long ponytail through his fingers that falls to rest over his shoulder. There’s only one ponytail Tetsurou knows that looks so soft and sleek.

When Tetsurou looks back at her, Yukie grins wider.

 

“You’re late,” Akinori says in greeting as Tetsurou climbs off Horse. She puffs a quick blow through her nose, nostrils quirking up. Acting innocent now.

“I was a little held up.”

“What? Got lost on the way because you could only see half of the road?” a figure glides up to them then, smirking like his only enjoyment in life is to be the bane of Tetsurou’s very existence. “I hear a haircut can do wonders.”

Tetsurou takes a deep breath, eyes closed. Suguru won’t get the upper hand today. Tetsurou has to show him that Tetsurou, proud warrior of Nekoma clan, is not so easily baited.

“Ugh, it’s even worse than I remember it.”

As it turns out, Tetsurou, proud warrior of Nekoma clan, is – in fact – very easily baited. Tetsurou squares up to bite back, but is never even given a chance. The stockier of the two snakes shouts out a loud and distracting: “Horses!”

Two figures wade through the rainfall, strong gallop thundering against the ground as they draw near. Tetsurou recognizes the man that approached him about the job leading the front, followed close behind by a cloaked rider. Their hood falls low enough to hide their face, but strips of white and red cloth stick out from under their cloak.

“You’re all here,” Asahi sounds relieved as they arrive, like he doesn’t quite believe it himself.

The cloaked rider slows to a halt close behind him and pulls back their hood, revealing a young woman with big, brown eyes and an upturned nose. Her hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail, held together by white string and a hachimaki band wrapped around her forehead.

“Mount your horses,” she says. “The road is long and time is crucial.”

Tetsurou turns back towards Akinori and Yukie, mouth agape. Akinori holds a tentative hand close to his sword and in the corner of his eyes Tetsurou sees Suguru and his partner eyeing the unannounced newcomer.

“Who are you?” Yukie asks.

A shrine maiden, Tetsurou realizes.

“Yui,” the rider answers, “your real employer.”

“But – you?” Akinori frowns at Asahi, who sheepishly scratches at his goatee.

“Asahi has pledged his service to this quest,” Yui replies in his stead. “Now hurry!”

The stirrups dig into Tetsurou’s sole as he mounts Horse and once they’re all saddled, Asahi takes the lead, setting a quick pace. They don’t stop when the rain beats down harder upon their backs, not when the skies rumble above, nor when the ground turns muddy and unsteady beneath their hooves.

Tetsurou rides behind the Nohebi clan warriors, Yukie in tow, and Suguru’s ponytail swishes left to right. Glossy, despite wind and rainfall. Infuriating.

 

 

The sky is a star-scattered cloak by the time Asahi declares they stop, the air a humid and cool tickle against the back of their necks. Asahi turns towards the shrine maiden, expression obscured by the dark. Yukie draws her horse to a halt next to Tetsurou and raises an eyebrow.

"Here?" Asahi asks. "The trees grow thicker up ahead. If we press on for the night, we'll lose the moonlight and possibly the road."

There is a beat of silence, unspoken words tense between the two. The horses have lost speed, their riders grumpy, soggy impersonations of the ones that set out that very morning, and hunger claws like a caged beast at the stomach of horse and rider alike – they all crave the rest. Yui nods.

"Alright," she says, "we stop for the night."

Asahi turns towards the group and bellows loud, "We make camp here."

Tetsurou leaves Horse to Yukie's care and joins Akinori and Asahi in search of wood dry enough to start a fire. They manage to gather a small collection of branches they find strewn over the ground, none any drier than Tetsurou's pants after the day's downpour.

"They're as dry as they're gonna get," Asahi tells Yui when they return to camp, dropping the branches on the spot she pointed out. The horses are secured further up ahead, reins tied around the sturdy trunk of an old beech.

"Where are the others?" Akinori asks and Tetsurou looms close behind him, curious.

"I sent them out in search of more wood," Yui says, rummaging through the branches. A soft smile frames her lips. "Why don't you two start setting up the bedrolls, there's a dry spot underneath those threes right over there. In the meantime Asahi and I will try and get a fire going."

"It might not catch," Tetsurou says and Yui's smile widens.

By the time the others return, a fire crackles quick and hearty like magic and Akinori and Tetsurou are caught up in a quarrel on how best to place their bedrolls.

Dinner consists of salted meat and a bowl of rice broth Tetsurou shares in the company of Yukie and Akinori. The snakes sit a small distance away, eating in silence and happy to soak up some warmth at last; Asahi and Yui sit across, backs bent over a map as they whisper in that odd dialect Tetsurou doesn’t understand a word of.

"You guys wonder what a frail, tiny shrine maiden is doing on the road, too?" Yukie asks when she’s on her third bowl of broth.

“She’s taller than you are, Yukie,” Akinori says, ignoring the sharp eyes she turns on him.

Tetsurou chuckles, loud enough to show he is listening yet soft enough not to draw attention. Maybe they won’t drag him into the whole ordeal and force him to pick a side – his poor arm can only take so many of Yukie’s punches in one day. He’s not wearing armor either, foregone in favor of free movement.

He opts to delve through the knapsack Kenma gave him instead. Potions cling together as his hand forages around, digging out a small paper scroll. He unrolls it over his lap.

_Orange potion. Sharp smell. – Subdues pain. Small sips. Four vials._

_Red potion. Sweet smell. – Against a persistent cough. One bottle max. a day. Five vials._

_Transparent potion. Neutral smell. – For peaceful sleep. Three vials._

_Green salve. Pasty texture. – Use with moderation. Two pots._

_Transparent salve. – Will stop bleeding. One pot._

_Red potion. Bitter smell. – Heals burns. Two vials._

_White salve. – Rest for weary muscles. Two pots._

_Light blue potion. – Warms the cold. Use sparingly. Two vials._

 

Tetsurou rolls the scroll back up, careful not to leave any cuts or wrinkles, and buries into the depths of the knapsack whence it came from. He promised Lev he would try to bond with the insubordinate brat – and Horse awaits him for a good brushing.

 

Horse sighs at the sight of him when he arrives.

“Me too,” Tetsurou hums. “Time to scrub the icky mud from your coat, yes?”

Her black coat’s still damp from the rain, and her head droops ever so lightly at Tetsurou’s touch, ears fallen to the side. He feels the tension brimming underneath her coat, all powerful muscle worked beyond its usual routine. The stress pours out of her with each brush, slow like the trickle of a creek. She turns to press her muzzle against his forehead and tries to nip at his hair. Tetsurou pushes halfheartedly at her neck.

“Horse – _no_ – you can’t – _stop_.”

“I can’t believe you named your horse ‘Horse,’ ” a voice cuts in, snickering. Suguru and his windswept ponytail, looking marginally less annoying without the green Nohebi armor on. Tetsurou straightens himself in an attempt to establish dominance over the conversation. If that needs to be in height, then so be it.

“Horse,” he begins, tone defensive (very defensive), “is a good name. The best name. Every horse’s first name ever.”

Suguru hums thoughtfully, thin eyebrows knit together and eyes sharp with bemusement. Tetsurou awaits the nearby insult at his door and presses harder against Horse’s neck as she continues to reach for his hair.

“I’m not so sure, imagine your parents called you Dumbass,” Suguru says, sticking out his tongue. Tetsurou rolls his eyes, seconds away from bristling like an angry kitten.

“Imagine your parents called you Prick.”

This is how the stockier snake finds them, head shaking with eyebrows of disapproval and pursed lips of disappointment scribbled over his face like a piece of dry poetry. Tetsurou’s cheeks burn the way they did when they were children, caught spilling ink over each other’s calligraphy by their mentor.

“His horse,” the stockier snake says, gesturing at Horse, “looks like quite the happy horse.”

“Don’t take his side!” Suguru complains, crossing his arms.

“Lay off, Sugu.”

Suguru rolls his eyes and turns, flicking his long, long ponytail over his shoulder as he strides away. It jolts left and right with a bit of attitude and Tetsurou fights back a hint of a smile. His chest hungers for air and _more_ and he is unsure why.

The stockier snake inclines his head in a slight bow.

"Kazuma," he introduces himself. “I’m sorry about Suguru. He doesn’t mean to be an asshat, he just kind of is. Don’t get me wrong—he’s brilliant, but also an ass.”

“Tetsurou,” he replies, “I – I’m aware.”

 

When Tetsurou returns to camp, the end of Yukie’s braid sticks out from under the cover of her bedroll and Akinori lies restless under his. Tetsurou is happy to crawl into his own, warmed by the fire, and to wrap the furs around him, curling himself into a pleased, tiny ball. He can almost pretend he was barely cold to begin with.

"Better hope it doesn't rain tonight," Akinori says and Tetsurou nods, grunting a weak affirmative as exhaustion tugs him to sleep.

His eyelids droop and sound rushes up to him. He hears the crackle of the fire and Akinori’s stretched yawn, the nightingale singing and the northerners’ thick accent in hushed tones. He hears the steady inhale through his nose and a soft rustling from the thick cover of the woods. At last, Tetsurou falls asleep.

 

 

For all of two days the skies color grey and the wind sinks its teeth into their cheeks, the only respite being that at least it does not rain. They ride their horses at a tempered pace, as the forest reaches out to them with long, bony branches and the soil turns rough. The night goes on endless here, high trees blocking out the light and eerie birds singing eerie songs in the dark.

Horse’s neck is tense and no matter how many times Tetsurou pats reassuring hands against her coat, she refuses to relax. He does not either; conversation has been sparse amongst everyone since the last morning. Yui rides up front, holding an old map spread out in the air. Tetsurou lingers at the back of the party, Yukie dozing at his side.

“Why couldn’t we go around the creepy forest?” Suguru asks.

“The path through saves us several days of travel,” Asahi replies. His voice is warm and leveled, although there is a nervous undertone to it. “It’s not that far anymore now, a few more hours should see us out the forest and near a small village.”

“Good,” Suguru says, “I feel watched in here.”

From the trees a flock of birds set into the air, chirping loud before they disappear into the canopy overhead. The horses stutter in their steps, snorting in discomfort, and Yukie yelps awake. Tetsurou runs a hand through Horse’s mane, trying to calm her down. The last thing they need is for one of the horses to scare the whole lot into a panic. Next to him, Akinori curses as he fails to regain control over his horse and Yui’s map sways forlorn to the ground.

“Come now,” Tetsurou tries to shush Horse, “there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Horse steps and side-steps and stomps her hoof against the ground in fright. A hand latches onto his wrist, fingers gripping tight onto his armor. Yukie looks at him, eyebrows furrowed with warning and lips pressed together into a thin line.

“Everyone, _listen_ ,” she urges, eyeing the empty space between their horses. Tetsurou hears the low growling, the rasped rumbling of the otherworld nipping at Horse’s hooves, eager for the taste of flesh. A large feline stalks past him, refined muscle rolling underneath a smooth coat of brown fur, clouds of dust licking at its paws with each step.

A second creature grins from between the trees. Horse snorts louder, trampling her hooves, and Tetsurou reaches for the sword fastened at his waist.

“That’s a nekomata, a really big, ugly –” Asahi says, cut off as the beast bares its fangs, two tails twisting in the air. Asahi’s grip steels around the pummel of his sword and his eyes harden with determination. The demon raises its head with cocky nonchalance, playing with them, waiting on their bluff.

The other nekomata creeps out from behind the trees, yellow eyes glinting. It growls, creeping its way towards its friend. One of its tails brushes under Horse’s nose and she spooks, staggering and throwing Tetsurou to the ground in her fright.

What happens next is: chaos unfolds. What happens next is:

First. The youkai leaps at Tetsurou, long claws gripping onto his armor and yellowed fangs seconds away from sinking into his neck, its breath nauseating. Tetsurou jams his forearm between the creature’s jaws and across from him Kazuma springs to life, sliding off his horse with his sword in hand. The second nekomata jumps off its hind legs, charging toward Yukie.

Second. The nekomata’s fangs pierce through Tetsurou’s armor and cut into his arm. Suguru reaches for an arrow from the quiver hanging from his back and nocks it with careful precision, breath steady as he takes aim. Yukie’s horse panics and runs, Kazuma swings at the second nekomata, and Asahi and Akinori finally set foot on the ground, each turning towards one of the demon beasts. Yui recites a string of muttered words. Suguru’s arrow zips through the air with a cutting zing and hits the nekomata’s lower back.

Third. The creature hisses, releasing Tetsurou’s arm as it slings him across the road and turns. One of its tails slaps Akinori in the face. The second nekomata strikes the back of Asahi’s hand and his sword clangs to the ground. Suguru knocks another arrow, hand steady, precise. Yukie slides off her horse, feet thudding against the ground, and storms back in with her naginata blade in hand. Akinori regains his footing. Yui mutters the chant louder and louder, trying to recall the words.

Fourth. Kazuma finds himself caught up in the confusion of frightened staggering and nervous snorting and another one of the horses runs off. Suguru’s second arrow hits its mark and the nekomata staggers back. Yukie pokes at the second nekomata with her blade, keeping it at a distance. Tetsurou groans himself upright in the background, trying to find his balance. “I’ve _got it_!” Yui yells. “Rin. Pyou. Tou. Sha. Kai. Jin. Retsu. Zai. Zen.” Her hand carves lines into the air. Vertical five times, horizontal four times, alternate them. Nothing happens. Again.

Fifth. Yui presses her eyes closed and inhales deeply. She chants, her palm cutting strokes swift and smooth as a brush. “Rin. Pyou. Tou. Sha. Kai. Jin. Retsu. Zai. Zen.” Over and over, until sweat beads at her forehead. Asahi smiles at her. He is a bright, bright aura, and Yui presses her eyes shut harder. The nekomata pace restless circles, reduced to nervous growling – it’s not good enough. Again. Faster. “Rin. Pyou. Tou. Sha. Kai. Jin. Retsu. Zai. Zen.” Something shifts then, cool against the back of Yui’s neck. The growling falters. They can’t breach her barrier, can’t reach them. ‘Leave’ her chant orders.

Sixth. Everyone’s fallen silent, the horses have calmed, but Yui does not notice. Almost there, almost. “Rin. Pyou. Tou. Sha. Kai. Jin. Retsu. Zai. Zen.” The chant glows around the scene like a warm shelter and the beasts turn, scurrying back into the cover of the woods. Asahi grins proud and Yui grins back, sagging against her horse’s back.

 

 

The village they find is small, a collection of old farmhouses and the occasional shop lumped together, nothing like what a warrior from the capital is used to seeing. However small it is, it guarantees warm food in his belly and a bed to sleep in; and Tetsurou, for his part, enjoys the prospect of having something other than rice broth for dinner for the first time in days.

The worn down ryokan they stay in is modest, tucked away in one of the village’s smaller alleyways, and the room is a little cramped when shared with six others, but Tetsurou is pleased to soak in the warmth of the fire across the room, hair dripping against the back of his neck after a bath. His tongue still tastes of the bitter concoction he drank against the pain and his arm smells of sharp medicine and ointment, covered in a thin spread of green salve.

The atmosphere glows warm alongside the fire, lighter now that they’ve escaped the nekomata’s claws and left the forest behind, now that the innkeeper prepares them a hearty meal. Akinori leans against the wall by the hearth, playing the flute he dug up from his bag earlier. Suguru sits closer to the flames, combing through strands of long, damp hair to dry by the fire. It looks soft and smooth, like Tetsurou could reach out and – Tetsurou scrapes his throat.

“I see a good bath can work miracles for even the nastiest of mugs,” he says. Maybe not the best way to say ‘thank you for saving my life.’ Suguru quirks a wary eyebrow up at him.

“Not for you, they don’t,” he says and returns to combing out the knots in his hair. For a split second Akinori snorts and his flute plays off-key, then he manages to stifle his laughter. Tetsurou takes a deep breath; he did not come here to fight.

“Here,” he says, holding out one of the vials Kenma stuffed into his knapsack. “Consider it a thank you for earlier. Kazuma told me you sleep rather fitfully sometimes, so I figured.”

Suguru draws his eyebrows together, confused. “It’s Yui who scared them off.”

“It’s your arrow that got the creature off my arm,” Tetsurou replies, clear liquid sloshing inside the vial as he twirls it in his hand. Suguru snorts, bringing his comb down to the wooden floor.

“It threw you across the road, Tetsurou.”

Tetsurou rolls his eyes and impatiently jerks the vial in front of Suguru’s face. Why does Suguru always have to make things so much more difficult than is necessary. Tetsurou can feel the heat of the fire on his skin, warming his arms and his neck and his face.

“Just take the damn thing, will you,” he says, “I don’t want to owe you anything – not my arm, much less my life.”

Suguru’s face splits into a wide and venomous grin, and he snakes his hand around the vial. His voice is coy, dressed in a teasing lilt when he speaks.

“It bothers you, doesn’t it? That I’m the one who saved you.”

“Look, are you going to take it or not?”

Suguru relaxes into his seat on the floor, dropping the vial into his lap with a light smirk quirked on his lips. A strand of hair slips over his shoulder, falling to the floor. “Thanks.”

Tetsurou thinks he sees more smile than smirk and blames the burning fire for the burning of his cheeks.

“Yeah, well, don’t worry about it,” he says, eager to make his escape now, “It’s not like we’re friends or anything.”

Suguru chuckles and when Tetsurou leaves to join the others at the opposite end of the room, he misses the way his eyes linger on his back.

 

Yui sits at the table, a cloak of fur they bought off some shop wrapped tight around her, munching on a slice of mandarin, and bent over the muddy map they salvaged from the road. Asahi sits by her side, index finger following one of the lines that winds and turns along the paper. Tonight, they don’t talk in hushed whispers, a distance away from the rest of the party.

“So this is the village we’re at, right?” Yui explains, pointing at a small dot. There’s a giddiness to her voice. Her finger chases after the same trail Asahi’s did, stopping once it arrives at the mountain. She knocks her fingertip against the new dot for emphasis.

“And this,” she says with a bright smile, “is where we’ll find the tunnels.”

Tetsurou frowns and Kazuma seems to agree with that notion.

“Wait a minute –” Kazuma says, thin eyebrows furrowing together, “I thought we were supposed to find those flowers you’re looking for _on_ the mountain, not _in_ the mountain.”

Yui nods. “The star fire only blossoms in the garden of an abandoned shrine on the mountain, but the mountain path up to the shrine has been lost with time and the tunnels are the only known way in.”

Tetsurou frowns harder. “So you’re telling me that no one’s been up to the shrine in – what? Months? Years?”

“Not for a hundred years at least, if the legend’s to be believed.”

Tetsurou’s eyebrows draw up in disbelief, lips pressing together to let out a drawn out sigh. Someone hums questioningly from the side and Tetsurou’s eyes glide over to find Yukie, fingers needling her wet hair into a braid as she stares out into nothing, lost in thought.

A knock sounds against the door and the innkeeper slides it open, carrying in a tray covered with bowls and plates of the best food Tetsurou’s seen in days. His mouth waters, eager to stuff himself on fish cakes and dried sardines and rice balls and leaves of seaweed and grilled mackerel and beef and anything else he gets his hands on. There’s a bowl of miso soup for each of them, too.

As the rest of them dig in, Akinori and Suguru join them at the table, Yui pushes herself off the floor to catch up with the old innkeeper.

“Just a second –” “If this is about those old tunnels again, dear, I _told_ you. If they ever did exist, they’re best left forgotten.”

Tetsurou watches Yui go wheedle more information out of the old lady, undeterred by her fed up tone of voice. Ah well, her loss. Just means there’s more food for Yukie to rob from under the grasp of his chopsticks.

“So what’s this star fire flower do anyways?” the food-stealing devil herself asks, smacking her lips. Asahi looks up from his bowl of miso, expression lingering somewhere between a good-natured smile and doubt. Yukie raises her brows in question and Asahi sighs, face twitching as he gives in.

“It has strong healing properties when brewed right,” he allows, “the rest is not my story to tell.”

 

 

The sun shines bright today, rays warm against Tetsurou’s face. The air is light, its breeze pleasant. Good weather for a good day.

“This should be it,” Yui says, grinning excitedly from where she sits on her horse. Yukie sits behind her to make up for the lost horse, one arm wrapped tight around Yui’s waist, the other around the horse’s reins. The sun shines down against the stone wall of the mountain, covered in moss and other green. There are no tunnels – at least, none that Tetsurou can see. Horse sighs loudly, as if insulted by the idea she came all the way here for nothing.

“The tunnels should be right here!” she insists, dismounting from her horse. She spreads the map wide out into the air, quickly joined by Asahi.

“Maybe we misread the map,” Asahi offers and Yui shakes her head. Tetsurou bites his lip, a little chagrined to know he almost lost his arm over a fake trail.

“Maybe the tunnels don’t exist after all,” Suguru says. Akinori nods his agreement.

“We could look for a different way up the mountain, seek out a path to the shrine ourselves,” he offers.

They both cower seconds later when Yui sets her glare on them, burning with fierce defiance.

“The tunnels _are_ here!” she insists again, slapping a hand against her map. She marches over to the wall and brushes off the moss that covers it. She plants her palm against a specific spot and presses down on it, closing her eyes. “ _Right_ here.”

A loud rumbling sounds from the stone and Yui’s eyes fly back open. She stumbles backwards, knocking into Asahi as the ground shakes beneath her feet. The stone cracks, sinking into the earth, and opens a door that hasn’t been opened for years, leading into the depths of the mountain.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! comments and constructive criticism are always welcome. 
> 
> if you liked, consider giving it a [reblog](http://directorennoshita.tumblr.com/post/158354741723/star-fire-quest-chapter-1-directorennoshita) | [rt](https://twitter.com/directorenno/status/841310601368522753)


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